


The Point of Popcorn

by duskblue



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Iron Dad, Nightmares, Peter Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, and a tiny bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-25 20:42:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16205288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duskblue/pseuds/duskblue
Summary: Peter is disturbed by a nightmare while he and Tony are on a trip to MIT. Iron Dad to the rescue!Come bother me on tumblr!!duskblue-art





	The Point of Popcorn

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my second fic in this fandom. Please let me know what you think!

Peter wakes up in a cold sweat, his breath coming fast, and his heart beating out of his chest. It takes him more than a few seconds to realize he’s not in his bed at home, and he’s not in his room at the compound either. The room is dark and deadly quiet, and the nightmare still feels real, swirling around in his half awake brain. His arms and legs feel numb, like dead weight, and he tries shaking the sleep off, but he’s still partially stuck in the dream. He still sees it in the darkness.

It’s someone wearing a dark mask with no eyes--just blackness where there should have been a face. Everywhere else there is red blood. On the walls. On the floor, on his hands. And there are bodies. All around him are dead bodies. Some of them he thinks he recognizes. But they are all dead. Dead and covered with blood. The figure with the black mask isn’t moving, just standing there still like it’s all Peter’s fault. 

And maybe it is.

He tries to blink it away but everything is dark, and his breaths are coming faster and more labored. Is it a dream, or did the blood just block his vision? He’s clawing the blankets away from him when the light snaps on, and Mr Stark is standing by his bed with his hand on the bedside lamp. 

“Hey,” Mr Stark says, his eyebrows drawing up in concern. “What’s wrong?”

With the light comes the realization that the nightmare is most definitely over. There is no darkness and no blood. There are no bloody bodies or walls, and no man with no face. There is only Mr Stark standing beside his bed in a Cambridge bed and breakfast they’re staying in for a few nights so Mr Stark can give a set of lectures at MIT, and Peter finds himself letting out a breath that sounds suspiciously like a sob.

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of the dark,” Mr Stark jokes, sitting down at the edge of Peter’s bed. “But to be honest, it’s a little too dark here. Even for me. They should have a hall light or something.”

Peter doesn’t realize he’s been crying until a tear lands on his arm, and he looks down at it in shock. He takes a second to turn away from Mr Stark and wipe at his face with the backs of his hands. “It’s not really the dark,” he mutters, angry at how cracked and broken his voice sounds. “I kind of had a bad dream and forgot where I was. I’m fine. Swear.”

Mr Stark is quiet for what feels like minutes, but is probably just a few seconds.

Peter can feel his eyes on him. “Really, I mean it,” he says to drive his point home, even though it’s only partially true. “Sorry I woke you up.”

“I wasn’t really sleeping anyway. What time is it? Three?” Mr Stark puts his hand on Peter’s shoulder and squeezes. “I’m usually up at three anyway. You wanna… talk about this?”

Peter just breathes. He doesn’t know what to say. It’s embarrassing, for one, to be broken down and at his lowest in front of his idol, but he also doesn’t think he can actually get the words out at the current moment. So he takes a second to attempt to gather his disjointed thoughts and slow his breathing. “I don’t know,” he finally says. “In the d-dream, I was alone. Except for this faceless guy. And—and everyone was dead. The worst part is—” He’s breathing hard again, trying to say it, but his voice is stuck somewhere in his throat. The words, ‘It might have been my fault,’ won’t come.

Mr Stark’s hand goes to his back, rubbing firm circles to try and calm him. “It’s okay. It’s not real, you know. Even though it feels real, it’s not. You don’t have to tell me all the gritty details if you don’t want to. I’ve had plenty of horrible nightmares, that I don’t need to imagine them. What you need to know that in our line of work, this is kind of normal.” He backtracks, “Not that it’s okay, and not that I want you to have to go through it, but it happens to a lot of us.”

Peter glances up at him. “Even you?”

Mr Stark’s dark eyes meet his, and they hold an expression of understanding. “Some of the worst. It sucks, kid. And it’s even worse if you think you can do it all alone. Trust me. I know. First hand experience and all. It’s good to talk about it. Makes it so it doesn’t feel as real. Because otherwise you’re just left alone with your thoughts, and if they’re anything like mine, they can be your worst enemy.”

Peter is taken aback a little. He almost can’t believe that Mr Stark has nightmares. He’s Iron Man, after all. What does he have to be afraid of? “But you’re the smartest and the strongest person I know,” he says, wiping at his eyes some more. 

“I’m only as strong as the people I surround myself with,” Mr Stark says, his hand coming to rest on Peter’s other shoulder so he can give him a one armed hug. “Newsflash, but that’s you, kiddo. I don’t know where I’d be without you. Well, and Pepper and Rhodey… and the others... You get the idea.”

Peter sniffs. He’s having trouble believing that he’s one of the people that makes Mr Stark strong. Maybe he’s just saying that to make him feel better. 

“Also,” Mr Stark says when Peter says nothing. “You might be smarter than me. And without the suit, you’re definitely stronger. So really, you have a leg up on me either way. Come on. I know it’s three in the morning or whatever, but you want to watch a movie? Might help you take your mind off it.”

“Yeah,” Peter says immediately. “What movie?”

“Anything you want,” Mr Stark replies, giving his arm another squeeze. “Cue it up. I’m going to go get some snacks.”

“Okay.” Peter watches him stand up and move around the corner of their suite where there’s a small living room and kitchenette, and lets out a shaky breath. He’s feeling a lot better, but still a little shaken. A movie is definitely a good idea.

By the time Mr Stark returns holding a big bowl of popcorn and two cans of soda, Peter has the start of the movie paused on the screen. It’s an old horror flick that Ned was telling him about, but he hasn’t seen yet. He thinks Mr Stark might like it, too.

Mr Stark hands him the bowl of popcorn and sets the cans down on the nightstand beside the lamp. “Lots of butter,” he says. “Just how you like it.”

Peter cracks a smile that slowly fades when Mr Stark turns to climb into the other bed. “How are you going to eat any?” he asks. 

“I’m not really hungry,” Mr Stark says as he sits on the edge of the bed. 

“You’re totally missing the whole point of popcorn,” Peter says, clutching the bowl. “You don’t eat it because you’re hungry. You eat it because it makes the whole movie watching experience more enjoyable. And it’s delicious. You don’t need to be hungry.”

“Okay.” Mr Stark is giving him a half smile. “I guess that makes sense.”

Peter scoots over in bed so there’s enough room. “You should stay over here. That way I can make sure you don’t fall asleep during the movie. Ned says this movie is badass.”

Mr Stark laughs, but he stands up anyway and climbs into bed beside Peter. “Badass, huh?” he says, grabbing for a handful of popcorn. “Press play. I don’t believe him.”


End file.
